A/N: Why do all of my stories have alcoholic themes?

Props to Aimee Mann and her gorgeous music (I semi-stole one of her song titles).

-

It was late. They were drunk. (It was almost as if the stars had aligned that night.)

Somehow, in their intoxicated state, they had managed to stumble, bumble, and fumble into Monica and Rachel's apartment, where they promptly stole more alcohol and a cobwebby Ouija board from approximately the beginning of time. The edges were crumpled on all sides and the center, where the "mover-thingy" (name courtesy of Samuel Adams) should have been, there was a coffee stain which suggested the board had been once used as a coaster for a full cup of espresso (Monica would freak).

It had been Joey's idea.

It was a bizarre kind of relief, letting Joey drive front seat. Chandler had gotten to the point where he had been glad to abdicate power and succumb to Joey's (rather outstanding) reasoning skills: who wanted to waste a Friday night on women when they had two apartments to themselves, the big T.V., and about a fleet's share of beer?

Joey later admitted he was just trying to be polite. Chandler appreciated it.

They both felt thirty approaching – thirty years – and some mature sense of self wanted them to question the intelligence of getting pissed on a Friday night, but soon it was all irrelevant – Chandler began telling anecdotes from his childhood while Joey nodded along in quiet sympathy. It was easier from there on out.

It all started with a joke, when Chandler proposed trying to channel the dead remains of his father's manhood. Both figuring they had nothing else to do, they sat cross-legged on the floor of the living room and placed their hands on the center of the board. Needless to say the dust was unfathomable; and after a half an hour of Joey pushing the cursor in the most conspicuous way possible, Chandler flopped backwards on the carpet. Joey followed suit.

"So," asked Joey, ignorantly charming as always, "is this what it feels like to be you?"

"I'm guessing you mean that in the nicest way possible."

"Sure."

"Beer, T.V., girly games, do-it-yourself mindset – you're living the life, Joe."

"I kinda like it."

"Well, we could always do a Freaky Friday."

"Dude, I love you and all, but threesomes are out of the question."

"No!" Chandler cried, as Joey picked out patterns in the ceiling. "No! I meant body-swapping. Changing identities, the whole shebang. It worked in Hollywood."

Joey looked thoughtful.

"It's a joke," Chandler explained.

"It would be cool, though."

"And you've discovered the backbone of movie premises."

To spare Joey the effort of responding, Chandler placed his hands on the board and motioned for Joey to do the same.

"Your question," Chandler prompted.

"Who does Chandler secretly want to kiss again?" Joey asked the Ouija board. Chandler rolled his eyes.

"I think you're drunker than I am."

Joey shushed him.

The cursor slid around for a bit before settling on the letter 'J'. Chandler looked scandalized.

"Are you kidding me? Why would I ever want to kiss Janice again?"

"I don't know, dude, the board only speaks the truth."

Chandler stared. "Joe, I know you're moving it."

Joey just shook his head and they went back to the board, watching the cursor move from the 'J' to an 'O', then 'E' –

"You're moving it!" Chandler cried. "And I don't want to kiss you!"

"Again," corrected Joey.

"What?"

"Again," Joey repeated calmly. "I don't remember you being so grossed out at the New Year's Party."

"Okay," said Chandler, holding up his hands, "okay. First of all, you kissed me. Secondly, it was for, like, two seconds, so it wasn't even a real kiss. And thirdly, YOU'RE MOVING IT!"

"Why're you so worked up, man?"

"I'm not worked up!"

"You're worked up."

"I'm not!"

Joey raised his eyebrows. "Okay, listen, you're sweating, man – if you wanted to kiss me so badly you could just wait in line –"

"What in the name of hell are you talking about? And you have a line?"

"It's just, Chandler – I know you're gay."

"I'm not gay!"

"See," – and here Joey chugged down some more beer – "I know you're lyin', 'cause why would you move it if you weren't gay?" Chandler began to protest, but Joey cut him off. "I see the way you look at me; don't lie to yourself like this! Lie to me, to the girls, but don't lie to your feelin's!"

"Feelin's?"

Joey threw up his hands. "I'm drunk."

Chandler stared Joey in the eye. "I'm not gay. I didn't move it. And you need to stop drinking before your intelligence implodes."

Joey frowned as if in thought. "Wait."

"Here we go."

"If you didn't move it . . ."

Chandler rolled his eyes. "This is like the worst mystery ever."

Joey stood up, shell-shocked. "Maybe I'm gay!"

"You're kidding me."

"All this time I've thought you were gay, and it was me who needed the wake-up call . . ." Joey mused, holding onto the island counter for support. "And maybe you're not in love with me . . . I'm in love with you!"

Chandler started, "Joe, c'mon, common sense here! I really doubt that you could harbor feelings like that for so many – mmph –"

Joey locked his arms around his neck and kissed him hard on the mouth. When at last he let go, they were both stunned.

"I'm not gay," said Joey.

"Never speak of this again?"

"Deal."